Within A Word

* Image Not Mine

Lines, curves, pauses, connections,

Tones whose punctuation builds context
Warm breathe greets sound
Hands dance with friction along lined paper
Pressure upon keys square-shaped
A tongue caresses the roofed arch for
the welling up of one's soul
as to petition the mind inside them with another.

 

Wellsprings of the heart runneth over

The pinning within to be au fait,
holds hands with words--written, spoken, even signed.

 

Naked fingers with pen, symbolizing hands swirl,

Tap, tap, tap sprints the lettered keys
Babble goes the baby—meaningless,
yet the deepest of meaning to them

 

The capitalized WORD breathed

before breath shook clay, shaping
man and then woman from a rib once dust.
Manifesting letters into His image, He gives names.

No mark of mistake, no jot

no tittle out of place. His fingers carve
hope in dirt to a woman
whose body beckoned death,
He so saved with words

A cosmopolitan piece quite perplex

the most brilliant minds find
with all their words read and said
are left,  speechless.

 

Emily Wolcott Murphy